Rotted
by Fangs4Nothing
Summary: Everything rots away in time. Wooden chairs in the damp and lover's stories in the quiet of dark. Bodies are hidden under the ground and burnt to ash on pyres so that you don't see the rot. But say the bodies aren't buried and burnt and the world rots away. Do we rot too, or do the flames of hope burn it away?
1. Chapter 1

**Well, my friend wanted me to write something to quell their TWD need. I might as well post this on here, see how people like it. I may or may not continue this. Please R&R, tell me what you think!  
IMPORTANTMESSAGEREADITPLZPLZPLZ - Flashbacks and dreams are in italics. That is what I'm gonna stick with, hence the return to edit past flashbacks with italics.**

* * *

I'd been alone for a long time. Hadn't seen anyone friendly since Atlanta. Couldn't be sure if there was anyone left; I didn't check.  
My plan worked alone. I had more than a few bite marks on my boots and jacket, but it worked. Most people would go for small towns, I think. After Atlanta, I'd wanted to go for them too. They were all empty. Nothing left.. The only places with supplies left had a lot of dead, and groups liked to avoid those places. So I went there. Covered myself in their guts, walked with the herds. I spent as long as I could in each town. After all, getting in and out took work.

I wasn't sure where to head off to next. Maine. New York. Perhaps Canada. That's why I was walking down the edge of a back road somewhere in rural Georgia, headed north.

A rumbling, buzzing sound came from a ways down the road, around a sharp bend. Engines. I dove into the forest, down to a grouping of trees. It was the best cover I had. A motorcycle came around the bend first, then three cars. They stopped. Right there.  
The group converged at the hood of the green Hyundai. A guy with a crossbow; he was the man from the motorcycle. A woman with short brown hair. An old man. Faceless people to any bandit.

I was about to go slinking away before a woman got out of the red Chevrolet Suburban. They all showed signs of malnutrition, especially her, but she was huge. She was, I realized, pregnant. I couldn't walk away from them without trying to help. They looked terrible. Yet a selfish part of me told me to run; I needed my supplies.

Carefully I walked toward the highway. A young boy with a sheriff hat saw me first and alerted his group.

"Dad!" he called as he pointed his gun at me. I swear, the look in his eye, I thought he would shoot me right then. A man walked over, a man with brown hair slightly curled from the heat with streaks of gray starting to creep in. He looked dangerous, but not as bandits tended to look.

"You bit?" he demanded.

"If I was, I'd have a bullet in my brain already." I glared, then smiled. Realized how stupid I was being. They had every right to be suspicious of a stranger, whether they were bit or not. "I'm Trinity. I decided to be nice and give you some of my very precious friends, as in food. Oh, and yes, I am covered in dead stuff."

He watched me for a moment, evaluating me, I guess. "What do you want in return? I will not put the safety of my group at risk." he threatened. I'd like to think it wasn't a threat, but it really was. I suppose he thought I had a group hiding in the trees, ready to gun them down for their meager supplies.

"Nothing. Just thought you could use a little food. Then, I'll head on the way you came. Do you think it'll be nice up in Canada? Maybe their deadies will ask before they eat you. Well, no, but it's a nice dream." I waited to see if he'd smile, even a little, but he didn't. "Oh, and you are? I hate referring to you as 'the guy' in my head."

"You'll run straight into a herd." the presumed leader said. The one with the streaked brown hair. "Rick Grimes."

"Oh don't worry. I can just apply some fresh makeup." I gestured to the filth on my clothes, then slid the rucksack off my shoulder and started rifling through it. I had more than enough food to last me for a month or so. Actually, it was kinda heavy to carry around. It helped that I hadn't had to share, but now I would.  
By the time I was done, about a third of the cans were set on the ground. The group was eyeing it hungrily, but they didn't dare touch it. Thought it was a trick, probably. "I need the water and stuff, but there's a stream down that way, all you gotta do it boil it. Oh, some of the food may be a little off. Not too bad, though, if you're really hungry."

"Where did you get all this? Everywhere is picked clean." Rick shook his head at the supplies, then back at the map laid across the hood of the Hyundai.  
"Big places, where the dead haven't wandered out of. Atlanta, first Peachtree City... Kinda hard sometimes. Easier alone, though." I said. A black man walked up to Rick then. He wore a gray shirt that might have been white, once, but now it was dirty, flecked with old blood.

"Gonna head down to that steam, get some water. Won't take too long; we can boil it later." Rick nodded at the guy.

"Sure T-Dog, just be careful." Rick said. He moved his worn, steel blue eyes back to mine. Those eyes had seen many, many things. "Still going north?"  
I should have left then, but I was lonely. I missed people and laughing and talking. I missed a lot of things, really. What was I supposed to do?


	2. Chapter 2

**This one is a little shorter than I would have liked, but I didn't want to go too long. I decided to continue it, at least for a little. And yeah, I think Rick running for the gate is kinda important in him proving his leadership. But Trinity kinda needs to prove herself... I probably should have proof read some more.  
R&R, even to tell me how terrible it is! Then I can make the next chapters better! Then we all win.  
ITALICS ARE FLASHBACKS/DREAMS! Even though there are none yet...**

* * *

It felt good to sit down for awhile. Even if it was because I wasn't trusted to do anything else. Doing nothing, letting other people do the work, it was... relaxing. I could almost ignore how close the boy's hand was to his gun, or the distrustful look in his eyes. Carl, I think Rick called him. Or maybe it was Kyle. The one who'd seen me first, with the sheriff hat.

"You don't have to watch me so closely, you know? I do not bite. Hey, why don't we play Eye-Spy?" I asked. The kid looked like he'd been through a lot.

"We don't have time for kid games." he said with that stubborn pride, the kind of pride and determination that drove you crazy if you didn't deal with it. I'd known a guy with that same look in his eyes. Except his were black, not blue.

"Alright, alright. I need to find you a box of Jenga or something. Frustration? Ooh, Monopoly. That might take too long, though. What about a pack of cards?" I looked up at the boy again.

I wanted to cradle my Sig Sauer in my lap, in my hands. The gun was in my bag. Could show it; I didn't want to give it up yet. I'd worked for it. Nearly died for it.

"Y'all gotta see this!" 

I slipped through the wire mesh fence. It scratched at my jacket and hair, but didn't catch. The dead rattled at the mesh. Moaning. Scratching. Trying to reach us. Pull us in. Devour us.

We were running, through the guard perimeter or something. To the main gate. Still got cautious glances. They didn't even trust me to wait with the cars, protect them from bandits.

"You could probably pick the dead in the field off, draw them to the edges and stuff. They're all gonna come in from that courtyard over there. Damn." I sighed. Watched the dead stumble around the gate.

"If we close that gate we can take the field by the night. It's perfect." Rick smiled.

"I'll do it. You guys can cover me. I'm the fastest." The Asian guy offered.

"No. That's a suicide run." the short brown haired girl objected, taking a subconscious step closer to the Asian guy. Oh. Ohhhhh.

Rick started listing off positions and his spur of the moment plan. It actually didn't sound too crazy, until he said, "I'll run for the gate.

"No way. I will. You cover me, alright? I do this kinda thing a lot." I told him, digging through my bag to find my gun. "Don't object. This group needs you. I've been alone longer than I haven't. This group needs you, not me. Can I have my knife back?"

"I didn't know you had a gun." he stared at it for a moment before shaking his head. "Can never be too careful these days. But if you do anything to hurt my people, you will regret it." Rick slowly handed my hunting knife to me. The one with I.R. carved elegantly onto the blade. Then the chains to keep the gate closed.

"Piece of cake. I could go for cake... You should get cows and chickens. I'll bring you some big-city stuff for cake..." I chattered nervously. I did do stuff like this a lot, but I was never going to get used to it. "Ready?"

They opened the gate. And I ran.


	3. Chapter 3

**I've decided to continue this, at least for now. This is really short. 354ish words, I think. It was meant to be a lot longer, but I started school on Wednesday and had an argument with my mum, resulting in my laptop being confiscated for two days. I should have another update up in a week, latest. Tell me what you guys think, so I can be all happy and write some more. I will be a little busy, though. It's my birthday on Sunday so I have to pretend I remember relatives that I really don't. Ugh, I shall shut up.  
ITALICS = FLASHBACKS! And dreams. Those too.**

* * *

I almost didn't hear the gunshot that came before the dead man died. Shoved him off me. Ran for the tower. Nearly fell again. Stumbled and slid on the gravel, but kept running. Then the cool metal of the door handle was in my hands. Opened the door. Pulled it closed behind me. Collapsed against the wall.

I could hear the gunfire outside as the group dealt with the dead. Slowly, I slid up my left sleeve. Half expected to see a bite there. The skin was red, irritated. It'd bruise. It'd just bruise.

"You're okay, you're okay." I breathed into my hands, waiting for them to come and knock on the door to get me.

_Knock. Knock._

"Trinity?"

"I'm alive. It didn't get me." I stood up. Walked up the metal staircase. Every step made the stairs clang under my feet. "Well, the gate's closed."

"I wasn't sure if I should trust you. I'm still not. But you risked your life for us. That means something." he looked at me, and those blue gray eyes weren't so cold. "Come down to camp. Maggie has your bag."

"You were alone all this time?" the Asian guy said. His name was Glenn.

"Well, the dead don't count. Yeah, I was. I was in a small town out east. After..." Things I hadn't thought about for a long time came back to me then. "After... Sorry. It's just..."

"Why don't you sing us a song, Bethy?"

_"You can not go on a road trip alone, Trin!" Jodie shook her head before stuffing some cotton candy in her mouth. "You can barely go to the store alone. Trin, you talk to the cashier because you feel lonely."_

_"So I can meet some new people. I'll be fine. Besides, it's only to New York and back." I looked up at the Ferris wheel, it's white bars outlined against the starry night sky. "Want to go on that?"_

_"I'm telling you now, you'll end up talking to walls." she smiled at the sight of the carousel, "You know I hate heights. But we are so going on that carousel."_


	4. Chapter 4

**What do italics mean? You should know this, damnit! Flashbacks and dreamssssss!**

* * *

I watched as the night slowly lightened, turning into a beautiful, dark violet-orange dawn. Another day in the apocalypse had begun.

"I want you to stay out on watch." Rick watched the sky too, but I knew I was in the corner of his eye.

"Why don't I scope out the prison for you? I can just, you know, cover myself in guts again." I leaned against the metal barrier. Felt the cool metal against my arms.

"You're a part of this group now." he said, "You need to understand that you are not alone anymore. We do this as a team." 

_"Ghosts don't exist, Jodie. Stop tryin' to convince me, because I know they aren't real." I leaned back into the pillows and reached for the remote. "Let's just keep watching."_

_"I gotta show you this video on my phone. I'm telling you that they're real!" Jodie grabbed the remote before I could, pulling it out of my reach. "Don't you wish the people you loved were around you like that? Gone but still there?"_

_I got to my feet, grumbling, as I walked over to press play on the DVD player._

_"I bet the dead do come back, we just don't know it yet." she said._

_"Jodie, the dead don't come back."_

The shouts and yells from the group drifted over to me. I ignored them. I had a job to do, just like they did. Yet I found my mind wandering.

I wanted to look out into the trees and see Jodie. Just wanted to know what happened to her after Atlanta. It was stupid. I barely escaped, so how could Jodie? Jodie couldn't bare to kill a dying fly. This world wasn't for her. I suppose it was good that she was gone, in a terrible way.

Thought I saw her walking at the edge of the woods at one point. Kept seeing things. Smoke, off in the distance. I was just seeing things. I probably wasn't fit to be on watch.

I relaxed into the mattress. It was probably one of the most comfortable things I'd slept on in a long time. Not how I would have described a prison bed Before.

I watched as people walked past the cell, occasionally glancing in. Listened to the clanging of the metal stairs, the screeching, banging of the cell doors. But no one bothered me. The low voices drifted up to me. I caught my name a few times. Hoped they wouldn't throw me out. Closed the cell door. Stopped paying attention.

I had the horrible taste of sleep in my mouth. Surprised they let me sleep. Didn't mean to. So I got up. I'd take watch. My feet made the stairs ring no matter how lightly I stepped.

Rick was sat on the platform, a great spot to watch the doorways. Instead of on the gates, his weary eyes were on me.

"I fell asleep super early, might as well take watch." I whispered, trying to ignore the terrible taste in my mouth. I didn't want to wake everyone up searching for water.

"Why did you come to us?" he asked. It sounded like it'd been troubling him. It took me a moment to realize what he meant.

"I felt bad for you. I didn't want you – I didn't want a pregnant woman to go hungry. Not much to hope for now, Rick." I sighed. I slid down the wall, sitting next to him. "Wouldn't it be great if this were like Narnia? We could just go back through a wardrobe and everything would be fine."

"It wouldn't be." his eyes wandered over to one of the cells, lowering his voice even further, "I don't think that baby's mine."

"We don't exactly have a way to test... Uh, who...?" I stumbled over the words. Tried not to sound like an idiot. Not to pry.

"He's gone. Shane... he was my best friend, but he just lost it. Started thinking Lori and Carl were his family."

"A lot of people did." Like David and Lucy and Pete. So many people, but I didn't say that."I don't know the full story, but Lori needs you now more than ever. Yours or his baby. I'm sure you know how low her chances are."**  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**Italics - Dreams and Flashbacks. Did you notice? I said it backwards! That was terrible. Just - read it now.**

* * *

Hershel shouldn't be going. I knew that much. It didn't matter if Rick trusted me to go or not; Hershel shouldn't go. He was the closest thing to a doctor we had, and he was far too old to be dealing with so many dead. Not to be offensive, but he was.

I turned away from the gate, walked up to my cell. Didn't expect Lori to follow me.

"Hey, Lori?" I could see she was an edge. I was too. Probably not as much as the others, who all knew each other. I was still the outsider. The one without emotional ties. Expendable.

"I'm worried about Rick. Do you think they'll be alright?" she asked, a protective arm around her stomach. Around her baby.

"If you're asking if I'll charge in after them, yeah. If they don't come back soon." I patted the bunk next to me. "They'll be fine. Just relax, Lori."

"Rick hates me. This group all look at me like..." she broke off, sitting down on the bed. "You're the only one who doesn't look at me like I'm a terrible mother."

"You aren't, Lori. Rick needs to get over it. This is the apocalypse. You can't stay mad at people because you can't guarantee you'll get the chance to make up!" I said, looking at Lori's startled face, "Do you think it'll be a boy, like Carl?"

Lori paused, then followed along with the change of subject, "I think it's gonna be a girl. I can feel it, y'know?"

"Thought of a name? Because this is the point I'd be using Google to find some." 

_"She's pregnant?" I cried, staring at Jodie in shock. She was going to have a little brother or sister?_

_"Yeah. Mom really wants a boy. Makes me wonder if she actually wanted me." she rolled her eyes, settling into the plush sofa._

_"Oh shut up, Jodie. Your mom is like the nicest person in the world. You could point a gun at her and she'd just offer you tea."_

_"You haven't seen her on a bad day, have you?" she shook her head, smiling. We had such similar habits. "She wants to call him William, Willy for short. How stupid is that?"_

_"Willy? I can't tell if I have a dirty mind or that is just a bad name."_

"Oh my god!"

"Hershel?"

I stumbled down the metal stairs. Made a hell of a lot of noise. "Oh god." I saw him go past, just a glimpse. He was missing a leg. I rushed to the gate, the one they'd left open. Daryl was there, holding his crossbow up. Figures were coming through the door. Too coordinated to be dead.

I pulled my gun out. Pointed it at the figures.

"That's far enough." Daryl snarled at the men. Prisoners.

"Cell Block C. That's mine. Let us in." The one in front demanded. He had tattoos and frizzy black hair that screamed trouble. Hit jumpsuit was tied around his waist, showing off his filthy vest top and tattoos.

"Today's your lucky day, fellas. You've been pardoned by the state of Georgia, you're free to go." Daryl said in a smug voice.

"What ya got going on in there?" the one with the frizzy black hair, the leader, asked.

"Ain't none of ya concern." Daryl said back.

"Don't tell me what's my concern." the leader hissed, pulling his gun out.

"Drop the gun or I'll drop you. Don't be an idiot, huh?" I tightened my grip on my own gun.

"I'm thinkin' you're the idiots here." he raised the gun anyway.

"Chill man. Let's just go; we're free now." the tallest of the group said. He had a lot of muscle, like someone who went to the gym for fun, He'd be useful if he didn't stab one of us first.

"Civilians breaking into a prison you got not business being in? Makes me think there's nowhere to go." the leader guessed. Correctly.

"Why don't you go find out?"

"Let's just go..." the one with straw blonde hair and too-perfect mustache said. He seemed nice, if you could ignore the blue jumpsuit.

"We ain't leaving." the leader said.

"Well you ain't coming in either!" a voice yelled. A glance told me it was T-Dog, gun at the ready.

"This is my house, my rules! I go wherever I please!" the leader yelled.

"Ain't nothing for ya here!" Daryl yelled back.

"Everybody calm down!" Rick shouted as he rushed into the room. 

_"Just calm down!" Mr. Knowles screamed over the rapid, anxious chatter of the class. I hadn't thought anyone could be this awake in first period maths, "Doug has been taken off to hospital, and the police... restrained that sick man. There is no need to worry."_

_"But sir, the cops said to go to Atlanta!"_

_"I'm getting to that, Joseph." the teacher raised his voice, even though the class had fallen silent, "The university is closing down until this epidemic is over. You have to go to Atlanta where the military are... taking care of the sick people. Be safe, class."_

_"But our parents are in Savannah, Trin. My little brother..." Jodie whispered to me, "Do we still go to Atlanta?"_

_"They'll come to Atlanta... They can't just keep them in Savannah, right?"_

"This was with the whole group." Lori looked so scared, gesturing to Hershel. I didn't blame her. Carl should have at least told someone where he was going, and definitely taken someone with him.

"We needed supplies so I got them." Carl looked annoyed, like it was impossible that he might have been hurt while he was out there.

"I appreciate that-" Lori cried, but Carl interrupted her.

"Get off my back!"

"Carl, you can't speak to your mother like that." Beth scolded him. She wasn't wrong.

Carl ran off, probably to his cell. I rushed after him, trying to ignore the voice in my head telling me that Hershel might die and bite someone while I was gone.

"It was good that you got the supplies, but take someone with you next time." I tried not to show how irritated I was with the whole situation.

"You spent all winter on your own. I can handle two Walkers," he said. So I crouched down next to where he sat on the bunk, holding my arms out in front of him. Showing him the bite marks on the sleeves of my tattered leather jacket.

"This happened while I was alone." I slid my right sleeve up. Showed him the ugly red scar running from the back of my hand to just before my elbow. "And so did this. I'm not gonna lecture you, but don't go out alone again."


	6. Chapter 6

**I am a terrible, terrible, terrible person. I'm so sorry this is late. I've been overwhelmed by homework and stoofs, so I just haven't had time to write. Ask ****_oreoanarchy, _****who has an amazing TWD Telltale Game fanfic that you all should read, how evil our Math teacher is. And that homework is more work than the actual classwork. That's my shoutout thing. Alas, I have one more! ****_orlock22 _****is the one who found this story and came along and PMed me, and then I realised it's nearly been a month! I am soooo sorry, guys. But you know who to thank for inspiring me to come back and finish off this chapter, tired as I was. So, tell me what you think of the ending. I think the info of my plot change-around needs to be in there, but I didn't want to be in 1st person, so I tried a loose Rick based 3rd. Tell me what you think! I'll do my best to shut up now and update ASAP!**

**We all know what italics mean. Yes, it is flashbacks and dreams!**

* * *

"_Toora, loora, loora__  
__Toora, loora, li__  
__Toora, loora, loora__  
__Hush, now, don't you cry__  
__Ah,__  
__Toora, loora, loora__  
__Toora, loora, li__  
__Toora, loora, loora__  
__Toora, loora, li." _

The sweet voice echoed through my head as I shot upright, nearly tumbling off of the bunk. It wasn't like I'd slept well over the winter, but at least I hadn't dreamed of my mother singing to me as though I was still a child, scared of the dark.

Pale slivers of light were creeping from the high, barred windows of the cell block. I supposed it was early in the morning. The cell block was filled with the collective noise of creaking bunks and hushed voices. I climbed down from the groaning bunk, pausing and wincing at every creak and groan. Sat down on the lower bunk to slip my boots on.

As I left my cell I saw Glenn sat at one of the metal tables, looking like he needed a decade of sleep. He blinked a few times as he looked up at me, before running his hands over his face and through his black hair with a groan.  
"I'll guess that you had watch." I whispered as I neared the bottom of the staircase, close enough to him that he'd hear me.

"Yeah..." He yawned, "I miss energy drinks..."

"I miss music. But Beth is a really good singer, so I can't complain." I dropped into the seat next to him rather ungracefully with an irritated creak from the table.

"She should have been famous. Not my favorite kind of music. Did you know anyone who sung?" 

_The slow clapping was almost as loud as Jodie's voice as it blared out of the speakers. The crappy bar speakers really didn't do her voice any justice. She hadn't told me anything about coming to sing. Why she'd been disappearing off so much with Dan, who was playing the piano, made sense now. I admit, I thought she'd been doing... other things... with him._

_"A friend of yours?" the bartender asked, deftly pulling my empty glass from my hand. His shaggy black hair fell across his eyes every time he leaned back down against the bar, and he'd run his slim fingers through it, looking a little irritated whenever it did._

_"Yeah. Uh, do I know you?"_

_"Nah. I'm James." he smiled, "Sorry. You want another drink?"_

_"That's fine. I'm Trinity." I twisted, ready to go and rescue Jodie from the group of people gathering around her, stopping her from getting back to the bar._

_"Huh. I ain't heard that name before."_

"I feel like such an outsider." I watched Rick's face, for – for what? A nod of approval? I expected it. I didn't think they wanted me there, really. "I think I should just leave."

"It's dangerous out there. We had some trouble with people. They're just cautious." he said, raising the rifle to scan the horizon.

"Then what do you want me to do?" I asked, probably sounding like a bratty kid, "Leave?"

"That ain't wha-"

"It's what everyone's thinking though, ain't it?" I muttered. 

The five days had gone by too quickly. It was kinda fun, being with people. But it was hard, and I had never been one to put effort in. My steady decreasing grades were enough proof for that.

Being alone was easier, for me. More tiresome, at least physically, but not as mentally tiring as trying to fit in with this group was. I was a stranger. I felt bad for the prisoners. They weren't innocent strangers. They'd all obviously done something bad. Even though they were all probably more innocent than us.

"You don't have to go." Rick paused at the gate, ready to pull it open. Glenn and T-Dog had already dealt with the dead piling up against the fences. It'd be a simple walk down the road, or across the fields surrounding the prison.

"I do." he pulled the gate open enough for me to walk through with a grunt, but I paused, because there was one more thing to say, "Look after them, Rick."

I didn't wait for an answer because I didn't need one. I strode through the gate, straight down the road. I didn't have to try not to look back. I just walked. I'd cut a walker up in the woods, where they couldn't see. Surely they didn't want to see that.

I kept walking, until I saw a lone deadie ambling along the edge of the woods. She had long blonde hair and a heart-shaped face. She must have been beautiful once. Like Jodie. She looked just like Jodie. I couldn't kill her – it. What if it was Jodie? It couldn't be Jodie. If she was a deadie, she'd be in Atlanta. But I couldn't kill her.

Then I was running. It wasn't graceful. I just didn't want to put her – that down. I couldn't. So I ran. Didn't stop for other deadies. I don't know how much ground I covered when I stopped, gasping for sweet dead smelling air. The whole world smelt like that now. I was walking kinda like I was drunk because I was dizzy. Pushing images of that walker out of my head, hoping I hadn't turned myself around and started going back to the prison. 

"The hell are you?" a tall man stepped out of the woods, a lot taller than me. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead. Patches of it discolored his gray wife beater. I was going to pull a gun on him. But he had an automatic – I knew nothing about guns, really – pointed right at me. And there were more people coming out the woods.

"I'm just a loner." I glared at him, wanting more than anything to pull my gun and be done with this all. If I got shot, so be it. I might be able to drag myself back to the prison. Then again... maybe not. For once I agreed with the anxious fear inside me. Don't be stupid.

"That gun, throw it on the floor. Just want you to come speak to our leader." he pulled a cruel grin, like he knew something I didn't. Like 'speak' didn't really mean speaking at all. I had a good idea of what it meant. Hopefully, I was wrong. Really wrong. 

_"Miss, you're gonna have to come with us." he rubbed his chin with his palm, exhaling a long, stressed breath. From the way his partner leaned against the hood of the car, glaring at everyone and everything he'd probably arrest me for looking at him the wrong way. I wanted to kick him in the shin. But I didn't, because he'd probably punch me back and call it justice._

_"Why? You just pull up there and – and won't tell me what I did wrong!" I stamped my foot, mostly just to stop myself kicking out._

_"It's about Cooper Jones. We already know that you know who he is." the nicer cop's face dropped, his soft brown eyes hardening, like he'd just remembered that I'd done something bad. Was I being charged for something?_

_"Yeah I do, but we really hate ea-"_

_"You're under arrest for the assault of Cooper Jones." the glaring cop announced, sliding out his cuffs, "Anything you say can and will be used aga-"_

_"I didn't – No! I'm not the villain here!" I yelled over him, too shocked. I hadn't done anything._

_"You sure about that? Sometimes we all get the villains and the good guys mixed up."_

Disorientating. That's how I'd describe being in a car blindfolded. I kept regretting agreeing to it, but I would have been shot. There was not question about it.

I needed my gun with me, if just so that I could hold it and feel safe. Like a deadly teddy bear. I could hear the rough breathing of the others in the car, the occasional crackle and mutter of voices as they talked over a radio. The journey wasn't long, not nearly long enough for me to calm my nerves. The way this was going, I'd open the 'talk' with "Potato". Or being shot.

"Who is that?" Rick sauntered closer to the fences, watching the figure draw closer across the small expanse of field around the prison. It limped, but not like a Walker. This person moved with intention, co-ordination. "Glenn, you see that?"

"Yeah – it's a person. Her leg's hurt." Glenn offered the binoculars to Rick, but he didn't need them. He was already heading down to the front gate. If they were bitten then he could deal with them outside of the prison.

"I'm going to talk to her." he announced, ignoring Glenn's protests until he decided to follow Rick. The words he'd told them all, after the farm had been lost, echoed in his head. He'd been on a power trip.

"We'll be straight back, Maggie. Don't worry!" Glenn reassured Maggie, whose face creased with concern.

"Rick?" Carol pursed her lips, like she'd just changed her mind, "Be careful."

T-Dog prepared to open the gate, sliding off the chains.

"Think she's bit?" Rick asked Glenn as he instinctively pulled out his gun.

"I hope not. I'm glad someone else is out there, even if they leave like Trinity did." Glenn said.

"Let's hope Randall's kind are all dead, then." Rick said, ignoring the way Glenn's face dropped as he remembered Randall and the farm.

"I was shot. I need help." the woman called as she limped closer, but neither Glenn or Rick failed to notice the sword she held. Glenn thought that it was a pretty cool sword, but he didn't want it anywhere near him or Maggie.

"We can take you back, but you gotta give us your weapons. Can never be too careful nowadays." Rick said as they drew closer to the woman, prepared to raise his gun and shoot if he had to.

"Finally someone with sense."


	7. Chapter 7

**It's okay, I wasn't 2 weeks to upload this. I was 13 days... I'm sorry! X_X Anyway, I'm trying a new thing to combat changing of scenes being confusing. Instead of just spamming spaces and hoping Fanfiction actually posts it with them in, I'll put the first few words in bold. Tell me what you think of it! Oh, oh, oh! I am going to try not to swear in this story, but I can't guarantee that I won't. Especially because Merle and his need for sugar ****. Y'know! Aaaaaaaaaaaand it's going over to the comic story a little, but I'm switching things around. Lots. Tell me what you think so I know if I suck! I probably do... Oh, did I mention no flashbacks? I need to shut up. Go and read, youu! It's good for your brain, don'tcha know? Well... OKAY I'M GOING BYE!**

**Italics = Flashback  
****Bold at beginning of a paragraph = A new scene, thingy, potato.**

* * *

"**I'll leave. I'd rather leave."** I itched to lean forward, to try and take his gun, but his lackeys who stood on guard by the door would shoot me. Or stab me. You never know.

"And that's what you want? This community relies on people like you who can go out there and provide for them." he gestured out the window to our right. Through the dusty frame people walked around, laughing, having fun. There were children and elders. People who couldn't provide for themselves in this world. "We do what we have to for this community."

"I'm better at conversing with Walkers. I can't talk to all those people."

"Walkers? What about the ones that just wait?" I hadn't realized that I'd said Walkers, but I had, hadn't I? I felt a wave of sadness for Lori and her unborn child – had it been born yet? For Carl and his tendency to do anything but stay in the safe area, and for Glenn, who, while hardened on the outside, was still just a lovestruck boy coping with the things he had to do. "You don't have to talk to those people. Just protect them." Those were different terms than what the prison had. They were a family. They had to know me, trust me.

"Governor? Milton needs you." one of the lackeys called to him, swinging the door open.

"I'm sorry about this. Will you stay in Woodbury?" the Governor asked, waiting for my answer. Governor. What a peculiar nickname – no, title.

I wanted to decline, to leave, like I had the prison, but I couldn't. What – what if Jodie found this place? No. She was dead. Yet, something told me that I shouldn't believe that. To believe in her. I just found that I couldn't. 

**Four Days Later**

**The four** climbed out of the bright green Hyundai, looking around for any immediate danger, like Walkers, but the road was empty, no Walkers in sight. Woodbury were good at killing things, Glenn thought to himself. Even if it were a little too much to wish for, Glenn wished that Woodbury wasn't like Michonne had made it sound. They might really be nice people and she was just wrong.

"You sure about this?" Rick raised his eyebrow at the woman who'd arrived at the prison, Michonne. Was going to this place, Woodbury, really that good of an idea?

"I thought you wanted to get Andrea." Michonne glared at him out of the corner of her eye, her sword held loosely in her hand, the blade glittering in the orange afternoon sunlight.

"Let's go." Rick took off on foot, his eyes darting around. Watching for the dead, and the living.

"You think they can manage the Tombs?" T-Dog asked Glenn as they walked along, scanning the world around them, although not like Rick and Michonne, who never stopped looking.

"If they keep the gates locked. If Daryl takes Maggie into the Tombs alone- He isn't that stupid." Glenn replied. They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, before T-Dog picked the conversation back up.

"You and Maggie in the guard tower, eh?" T-Dog was grinning away, while Glenn's cheeks reddened to the color of a postcard sunset.

"Tha -" Glenn stopped himself, slowly turning at the sound of many laughing voices behind them.

"Well lookie here! How ya doin', Chinaman?" Merle grinned. 

**Woodbury felt claustrophobic** after so long alone, even after the week at the prison. There hadn't been so many people there. This was bad. It's true that it's easy to hide in a big city, but this wasn't a big city. It had the right amount of people to be that town from before the apocalypse where everyone knew everyone. Great.

"Hey!"

I spun in shock, stumbling away from the blonde figure.

"Andrea?" My jaw gaped in surprise. I hadn't expected Andrea to be alive. She'd been in Atlanta. I had too, but that hadn't gone so well for our group.

"Trinity." she smiled, adjusting the way that her gray button-up shirt fell off her shoulder. So much was different about her. Her hair, which she always used to have in a meticulous, bouncy ponytail whether she was at work or not cascaded around her shoulders in natural blonde curls. Two pieces of hair were pulled back, twisted around behind her head to stop the curls from falling in front of her eyes. "It's so nice to see someone from before."

"I can't believe it's you!" I cried, stepping forward and wrapping my arms around her. "I meant to come and find you when we came down to Atlanta, but things got really bad."

"I got out when things started going bad in there. A nice man got me and Amy out... His name was Dale." her eyes drifted off, glazing over a little. I didn't have to guess what had happened to this Dale, or to Amy. I'd only met her once, but she was so nice... So bubbly and excited.

"I miss people too."

**"****Where are the rest of your group?"** the Governor asked with a false sense of politeness, his machete hanging loosely in his hand, but there nonetheless.

"I told you, it's just us." Rick glared at the man, extremely conscious of the gun barrel pressed to the back of his head.

"Where are your supplies? Where did you get that riot gear?" he growled at the silence of the group, before nodding at the man who had his gun to T-Dog. He wasn't anything special, just another sweaty apocalypse survivor, but he moved with a determined, cruel smile as he forced T-Dog forward, towards a rough wooden table that sat against one end of the room. The man was joined by one of the men who had been standing by the door. Together, they shoved T-Dog against the table, his arms lying across it. Like some grim thief punishment from history books. What had they done wrong? They hadn't stolen their land; the prison was theirs. Even though the Governor and Woodbury had been around for longer.

"What are you gon-" the Governor didn't have to speak to cut Rick off. His glare did that. He took out his machete, twisting it in his hand, looking at Rick with those eyes.

He swung down, spit flying out of his mouth. Blood danced through the air, painting the Governor's face like it were a child's happy face at the carnival who was getting a butterfly painted on their face. 

**"****Let's go get some food. I live in that -"** she raised her hand, pointing at the same building I'd been living in. Four days and we hadn't met. God damnit, Trinity. "that building over there."

"Yeah, I do too." I twisted away from Andrea, raising my hand to block the sunlight as I watched some of the guards pulling a covered figure along, towards the town hospital. The figure left a trail of blood. I didn't get a good look at them as they pulled the figure inside, slamming the door behind them. Only one remained outside. To stop anyone entering, I guessed. But who had been injured? Were they bitten? "What the hell?"

"There's no need to panic! Someone slipped and they hurt their leg, is all! I will not be tellin' you all who just so you can go gossip 'bout it, yea?" the guard who'd waited outside yelled, ignoring the trail of blood they'd left to decorate the road. Treated it like a minor incident.

"That's a bit much blood for a little accident? Well, maybe their femoral..." I sighed, silencing myself. It probably was just a cut close to the femoral. What else could it be, a severed limb? I doubted that.

"Did your scar that the Jones boy gave you heal up? That made me think of it."

"What – Oh, that. Yeah. Ugly as hell, though." I struggled as I tried to slide up the right sleeve of the new jacket the Governor had salvaged for me. The bite marks on the old chewed up jacket disturbing people or something, he'd said. He had a point. "I hate Cooper so much."

"You don't gotta show me. He is such an a-"

"Shhh, don't swear! I'm a child, remember?" I grinned at the irritated look on Andrea's face. She'd called me a child multiple times when trying to intervene with my case. Never to me, only to court officials and the like, but I'd still pretended to take it to heart.

"You know – Fine. He still is though. I can't believe the cops didn't realize he had a metal shard in his cell!"

"Past tense. He is probably and hopefully dead." I shrugged, turning away from from the blood splattered road. "I should have expected him to make something up after I caught him taking drugs, but charge me for assault? He's the one who jumped me when I caught him."

"Then you let him get you again before he was sentenced. Do you just like getting hurt by druggies?" Andrea smiled, walking towards our apartment block thing. I jumped into step beside her. What did you call them in the apocalypse? Probably still apartments.

"How did I know that if I went to his cell he'd have a very sharp piece of metal and that he'd stab me in the arm?" I pulled my right arm against my chest subconciously. He hadn't just stabbed, he'd sliced down.

"I saw this child out there... Just wouldn't do what his parents said. I think I convinced him that I got this scar during this mess because I was being stupid and going out on my own." I didn't see the harm in telling Andrea that. Besides, Woodbury was safe. The Governor would find out about the prison group eventually and then they could have an alliance or the group could come here. "I'm pretty sure he's still an idiot."

"There was this kid in the group I was with. Wouldn't listen to his mother." Andrea smiled, enjoying the thought of how stupid he was, no doubt. "Oh, have you met Milton yet? You both love science." 

**They'd told the group **to wait three days before assuming something bad had happened. Glenn wasn't sure if they could hold out that long. They hadn't hit him once. They just made him listen to Michonne's screams and yells. The grunting that always accompanied it. He was just glad that Maggie wasn't the one in there. He would have told them about the prison to stop them doing that to Michonne. But Maggie was there. What if they did the same thing to her? 

**"****Give them another two days, dear.** They could just be talking, negotiating. If they're gone longer than three days then you can go and get that map that Michonne drew up and go and get them, okay, sweetie?" Hershel smiled, patting his oldest daughter on the shoulder. She hadn't stopped thinking about Glenn since they'd all left for that town, Woodbury. It had only been a day.

"I know I should wait, Daddy, but it feels wrong. What if they need us now?"

"What if they don't and you go in there and cause a war? Be patient, Maggie." he pulled himself him, using his crutches and one remaining leg. Maggie was right there at his side, helping him stand up. He'd miss his leg. When he dreamed he still had both legs. Rick had saved his life, and as long as they were safe here, in the prison, he could deal with a ghost leg. "Come on, Daryl'll be waiting for us up in that tower."

**"****Well as long as Woodbury is safe** and has power I can keep working on all of this. It's a long shot, but I could cure this thing. If Woodbury were to remain standing so I could continue with my work. I'm not sure with all these herds that it will. Realistically, there's a very high chance of at least one of them hitting Woodbury." Milton was probably the most educated person I'd met in the apocalypse so far. "I hope that I can find out what caused all of this. Fix everything."

"Like, if it's a virus, where it came from? I think it's a virus."

"I think it might be but there's really no way to tell without better equipment. I'm relying on the Governor to bring me back equipment when he can. He bothers more about weapons nowadays, though. For killing." he confessed, before pulling a rather worried face. "I really shouldn't be talking about this, I'm sorry."

"For killing the dead? That's the attitude you need to have, I think. More weapons to kill more dead." I convinced myself, ignoring the look of utter disbelief he gave me. 

**"****That riot gear, Governor. It's not marked up or anythin' like a cops would be. Could be from that****prison."**

"That place was overrun. They must have a lot of fighters. A lot of weapons." the Governor smiled, turning to open the makeshift metal door. "I'll see what I can get out of him."

He walked in casually, as though he was just walking into the office on a Tuesday morning. He looked down at the black-haired Asian like he was a kicked puppy, and he was the one who'd kicked it.

"We know about your group at the prison. Impressive, clearing it out." the Governor smiled at the shocked reaction, the wide eyes, the opened jaw of the man. It was the old prison. "I'll bet you have a big armory there. A lot of weapons that could be of use to my people. How many of you are there?"

"No..."

"No? I wonder, would it be easier if I brought you an old friend. Just to help loosen your lips?" he walked back to the door, yanking it open and yelling outside. Words that Glenn didn't comprehend. They knew about the prison. Who'd told them? Maggie was in danger now. They had to do something now. He couldn't let them hurt the group. His family.

"Well Chinaman, I guess we're gonna be havin' a lot of alone time until we sort out this little speaking problem of yours." Merle laughed, raising his hand and stump in the air. His stump had a piece of metal covering it and a sharp bayonet-like thing strapped onto the metal. It looked like one deadly finger. "You wanna help me see how sharp this baby is?"


	8. Chapter 8

**_The mid-season finale devastated me. I'm British and saw it tonight and... I thought it was good. Slightly irritating with how she tried to stupidly use scissors, but... Damn. The feels are real, mostly because in my cold, dead heart I did indeed ship Bethyl at least a little. But I get it, the no goodbyes. I'm so sad : (_**

Anyway, on to chapter things before I spoil things more. I think I already spoiled it, but hey. I finally updated this. I rushed it all out and flicked over it, so I doubt it's that great. It's 3261 words, so very long chapter! I hope you guys like my grief-stricken attempt at getting a chapter out. I told myself that I'd wait until tomorrow, now today as we hit midnight, go over it, and then on the 3rd go over it again. But after that heart breaker episode I have decided to throw out this chapter and work on all that homework that piled up over November. Whoops!

* * *

**Two Days Late****r**

**I looked out over the trees and tarmac, the bodies and bushes **as I shoved the book back into my rucksack. I'd gotten away with reading in the far corner of town by the wall, but it was nearly curfew and I didn't want to be late in, yet I wanted a look outside of Woodbury. To remind me of the dangers out there. So I had climbed up onto the wall and decided to look out over the scene beyond it. The trees and tarmac, the bodies and bushes. ****

"Pretty ladies like yerself ain't meant to be on the wall." the man said, leaning right near my ear. I spun around, nearly falling off the rampart-like-things as I stumbled back. He'd obviously had some sort of buzz cut before all of this, but his hair was slowly growing long enough to look like he'd simply lost most of it, despite not looking that old. His arms were defined with muscle that had been acquired with hard labor. "Run along, missy. Yer gon' be late for curfew." he raised his right hand in a warning gesture. No. Not a hand. A metal sleeve over a stump, with a deadly sharp blade attached to the end.

"Your hand..." My mouth gaped in shock, and I couldn't help but stare at the stump.

"I got abandoned in Atlanta by a goddamn cop. Handcuffed me to a roof and left me to die. I did this to escape." his eyes narrowed slightly, his lips pursing in anger. His face was defensive and angry looking anyway, but the expression made it worse.

"How did you survive?" I asked, gently poking the metal sleeve. He violently jerked away, his eyes glaring at me. "Sorry."

"Governor picked me up off the side of the road. I'd be dead if it weren't for him." his eyes moved away from me as he scanned the woods over the wall. They were eyes that knew to look for detail, darting around, noticing even the slightest movements. "He's a good man." he said, but I saw his eyebrows crease together ever so slightly. Did he doubt that?

I turned, going to climb off the wall, when I noticed his knuckles. The knuckles of his left hand were bright red, the skin ripped as though he'd punched a hard surface. "What happened? I could help." I said with genuine concern, gesturing to his remaining hand.

His face contorted in surprise at being asked the question, leaving him looking softer, nicer. Then his eyes clouded over and narrowed and so he was back to that defensive look. "Jus' lookin' for my brother. Ain't none of your business."

"Well maybe I know him. Do you have a name, or are you just Guy-On-Watch-With-One-Hand?" I asked.

"Merle Dixon." He snarled. Despite his defensive, angry demeanor, he still had some hope that his brother was out there.Dixon. Dixon. Where had I heard the name Dixon?

"I don't know-" and then I remembered. Daryl. I opened my mouth to tell him. I would have shouted the name without thinking if that had not been when the gunshots began.

Merle didn't say anything. Instead, he pounced down from the wall and dropped into a sort of crouch, his knees slightly bent, as he started to stalk towards the large ball of smoke that was expanding from the other side of town. I wondered if someone had set off a smoke bomb. I could see the resemblance in the way Merle moved just as Daryl did when he went off into the woods to catch squirrels and rabbits back at the prison.

I clambered down from the wall, feeling clumsy in comparison to Merle. He didn't make one wrong step as I rushed over to him. Merle cast a short glance over his shoulder at me and then turned away, his gun held ready to fire as he crept along.

"Get the hell inside." he hissed, stopping in the small cover of a bench.

"But-"

"This ain't no place for ya!" he spat the words out. It wasn't a yell, but it was loud. I cast a worried glance about as I crouched down beside him as though the enemy would rush over in their dozens if they heard us. I still had no idea who the enemy was or how many of them there were.

"Your brother, Daryl-" I began, but then Merle jabbed his stump in my direction, the point dangerously close to my throat.

"Ya know where he is?" The sound of more gunshots filled the air. I couldn't tell how close, but Merle didn't move his stump arm, so I didn't move my head.

"Yeah, I left, but, yeah..."

"Chinaman said ya had some guns, but he din't mention where. Governor said not to ask. He already knew, din't he!"

"I don't- Glenn? Merle, what is Glenn doing-"

"We're gonna get 'im and then get out of Woodbury." Merle hissed, and then he was moving, faster than I could get out a reply. What was Glenn doing in Woodbury?

We ended up at the side entrance for what I figured was the storage room for the next store down the street. I didn't make note of what store it was because I was too busy trying to avoid any guards or intruders.

"Wait 'ere. Governor did it up all fancy inside." he commanded, his eyes twitching as though he might roll then in a different circumstance. I wanted to protest, but Merle stood and walked inside, so I moved away from the door and to the outer wall of Woodbury. I couldn't hear any groans on the other side of the high metal, but I stayed silent in case of threats on either side.

I was confused. The Governor was supposed to be good. Woodbury was supposed to be good. But Merle didn't make it seem that way. Why did I trust him? I knew his brother, but you couldn't trust someone just for that even Before.

"They're gone." Merle dropped an extra gun on the floor from under his arm. It was a large automatic. I didn't question where he'd gotten it from as I moved forward and pulled it off the ground, almost dropping it. I hadn't realized how heavy the black gun really would be.

"I can't fire this and what?"

"Just pull the trigger, sweetheart." Merle scowled, and then turned back to the street and watched the figures flying by, some running, and some moving slowly, limping. "Glenn and his girlie, they're gone."

"Maggie?"

"Wutever. They're gone."

"How?"

"Officer Friendly." Merle grunted. "He still alive?"

"I don't know! Let's just- get Andrea and go back to the prison." I said, taking a step out of the alley and toward the apartment block. Merle sent me a glance, but I couldn't tell whether he was glaring at me or inwardly kicking himself about something. The prison?

Merle took the lead. So far we'd been lucky. No one had really noticed us. I saw Andrea rushing across the road with her handgun clutched in her hands, held ahead of her. I opened my lips to yell, but then a hand wrapped itself over my mouth. It smelt woodsy but also of metal and smoke, of medical supplies and alcohol.

"Ya wanna get us fuckin' caught?" Merle growled in my head, holding his hand across my mouth until Andrea was out of sight across the road. When she was lost in the smoke, he pulled his hand away and retrieved his gun where he'd dropped it.

"By who?" I still didn't understand why Merle was so worried we'd be caught. By who, the intruders? I felt guilty that I wasn't helping defend the town, I realized. I'd just ignored it until now.

"The Governor." Merle lowered his voice, "We're goin'. C'mon." Merle changed his direction, taking sure steps toward the wall. I had no choice but to follow him. That was a lie. I could turn around and go back to the Governor. And shoot Merle, because he was a traitor. I couldn't. I would not shoot anybody unless I absolutely had to.

When we were back at the side door Merle moved toward a pile of crates at the end of the alley. I'd stood next to them as I waited for Merle. I saw 'FRAGILE' stamped on the crates and assumed they'd once carried plates or something of the like. Maybe they still did.

Merle climbed up them, and I followed suit. I wondered why the Governor had let these crates stay here. It wasn't a prison, I reminded myself. The point was to keep things out, not keep people in.Merle looked around for prying eyes, then looked over the wall for the dead. I assumed that he didn't see any because he dropped off the wall. I scrambled up the boxes, almost dropping my rucksack. I realized how lucky it was that I'd been out with my rucksack reading on this night. I didn't have my gun, but I would just have to get a new one. Still, as I made to drop down on the other side of the wall I felt a regret for the gun I'd worked for.

My feet hit the ground, but I didn't feel pain in them. They were numb to the pain. It shot through my knees instead.A jarring pain, and I thought for a moment that my knees had snapped in two.

"Come on, sweetheart." Merle said as he adjusted his gun under his arm. "You know the way better'n I do."

"I don't really know." I said, but I started off towards the road, glad to be on the wooded side, not the abandonedpart of derelict Woodbury.

"Ya better." he grumbled as he caught up to me, "We better run."

"Alright." I said. I didn't want to complain about leaving Andrea or my gun. She could get herself out, right? Still, I felt horrible for leaving her there when I was running off with Merle. Who I didn't know anything about except his name and his brother. But I followed him when he set off running, worried that I wouldn't be able to keep up after a minute. I figured that Merle knew the general direction of the Prison, but I was a sprinter, not a pacer, and I wasn't sure I could keep up if he decided on the pace. We needed a car.

Some two minutes later, around a bend in the road, we came to a stop with multiple guns raised at us and familiar faces behind them on the road. My breath came fast and rushed and I was sure that no oxygen was actually entering my lungs but I continued to pull in the haggard breaths anyway.

"Ya gonna do the talkin' for us?" Merle asked, but I couldn't get the words out to reply.

"Trinity?" Rick said as he made his way over, followed by Daryl with his crossbow just a step behind. The others stayed back, but were ready to fire.

"Merle?" Daryl asked, his features softening for a moment. Then he lowered his crossbow and made his way over to his brother until they were close enough to hug, but they didn't. "Yer alive?"

It was then that I had enough breath to speak. "I'm sorry, Rick."

Rick gave me a look that I couldn't decipher but didn't say anything and then simply nodded. But as his eyes drifted back to Merle they went cold.

"You tried to kill Glenn." Rick accused Merle, interrupting the strange brotherly moment. Daryl made his way back to Rick's side. I stepped away and made myself a third party, unaware of what had happened outside of my knowledge.

"Leavin' me now, sweetheart?" Merle asked, his voice leering.

"Glenn is over by that car and he can barely stand." Rick said.

"Merle?" I asked in sync with Daryl.

"I did the Governor's business, I did." Merle defended himself, "Y'all left me in Atlanta to die. Revenge, that."

That was that. Too many people had been left. I slid my bag off, and flung it at Rick's feet. "I need to go back."

"Why-"

"I've left enough people." I said, and then I turned around, and against the will of my burning lungs, ran.

**I ran up the steps.** One step, then two, then one. My legs just moved that way and I didn't have time to question it. I ran along the corner, ignoring this floor, and up the next floor. Reversed. Two steps, one step, two, one. When I made it to his corridor I ran along it, to the door I knew was his from my visit. I twisted down the handle and then pushed open the door, but the room was empty, and in darkness. I crossed the room slowly, out of breath, my lungs and my throat burning and dry. I looked around for my gun, but I couldn't see it. Not in the glass case where a sword and a gun sat, or on the table.

A blue glow came from the slightly crack of an open cupboard door, so I made my way over there. I swung open the door, expecting to see shelves and lights, but instead it was an empty, small walk-in wardrobe. A recliner sat against one wall and in that tan recliner sat a man with blue light bathing over his face and across his black vest jacket and down to his shiny black shoes. The light came from stacks of fish tanks filled with water, blue luminescent lights inside of every tank. The light cast the features of floating faces, some greyed and rotten but all wrinkled from the water.

"Get out." the man, the Governor, said as he stood, his voice angry but still holding that calm of a leader.

"What the hell..." I stared at the heads, felt that dark little feeling that had been inside of me these last six days twist and blossom. "Where's Andrea?"

"You're going to leave whether you want to or not." he said, advancing towards me. I felt my feet move, faster than I could think to stand my ground. I didn't have a weapon. But I could see my gun on the Governor's belt.

"That's my gun." I said as I tried with all my might to disguise the tremor in my voice.

"It's mine now." he said, and then he pulled my gun out, and pointed it at me. I might have frozen in fear, if I hadn't been too angry. That was mine. I'd earned that gun. So I dove.

We went flying to the floor. My elbow hit the door frame into the room with the blue light and the heads. I knew that, but didn't feel it. I spotted my gun lying in the main room, near the table, and shoved myself off the Governor, who was still dazed, and dove for it. He wasn't dazed. A radio hit the gun, sending it skittering away. I was on my knees, getting up, when his hand yanked back on my shoulder and flipped me back to the ground. I saw the glitter of a knife in his hand. I called out, and twisted my head. A tight pain flared across my cheek, up to my ear, and I reached up and clutched at it because it stung.

The metal caught the blue light again as he angled it, kneeling over me. I punched up, at a place that no fist should go, and when he cried out, I kneed up, and crawled backwards. When I was up, I ran for the door, conscious of the blood that was on my hands.

**"****What was that?" **Rick asked, the irritation and anger clear in the sound of his voice, but his gun was held at his side and not pointed at me.

"Andrea... I couldn't find her." I mumbled, mostly because moving my mouth too much hurt. It stung and ripped at my left cheek, and my right elbow had a slight throb to it.

"What happened?" Rick asked, staring at the slash across my cheek. I hadn't seen it for myself, but they were all giving me looks that deeply worried me about how m utilated I was. It would heal, right?

"Governor. I just need to treat it." I said, my words slurred. At first I wasn't sure he'd understood me, but then he did, and he nodded to the car. I shoved myself into the back seat. Rick moved off, leaving the door open. I was about to pull it closed when he moved back and tossed a white cloth inside and closed the door for me.

As I held the cloth to my left cheek, I noticed T-Dog in the other back seat. A white bandage was around his hand- no, his wrist. Rick got into the drivers seat and Daryl into the passenger seat. He must have left his motorcycle at the prison.

"Your hand..." I mumbled. T-Dog shook his head, but he still clutched the bandaged wrist with his other hand. He'd lost something irreparable. T-Dog was the one they dragged through the street that day. I had just stood by and watched. Never again.

**"Welcome back." **Hershel smiled, leaning on his crutches. Hershel was awake.

"You're awake." I smiled, and instantly regretted it. Hershel's brow creased and he swung over to me on his crutches, faster than I thought he'd be. I moved the cloth away for him to take a look.

"Let's get you sorted out." Hershel smiled. "Sit down for a minute." Hershel bounded away on his crutches before I could object, and so I sat myself down on one of the metal benches at one of the round metal tables. Maggie and Glenn came in then. Maggie had one arm looped around Glenn's shoulders, supporting him. Glenn tried to shove Maggie away when they entered but she had other ideas.

Hershel looked out then and saw Glenn, with his bloodied face and arms and green shirt. He placed the bundle of medical supplies on the table beside to me.

"Maggie, look over Glenn for serious injuries and give them temporary treatment while I patch up Trinity's cheek. After that I can pay more attention to Glenn without rushing it." Hershel commanded, something I wasn't sure the faithful man was capable of until now. He'd seemed too nice, but you had to be like that in this world. Besides that, the Greene family were a strong family. Even an emotionless blind sociopath could see that.

**"I was running and I ran right into them." **I said, desperate to limit jaw movements now that Hershel had fixed up the gash along my cheek. It started around an inch, perhaps a little less, from the edge of my mouth and ran just along the lower part of my cheekbone. The Governor had taken my earlobe off. My ear itself was fine, but now the earlobe was gone.

"You just stayed there?" Rick asked another of the many questions as he stood in the entrance to my old cell. My cell now, again.

"I thought I could help the people there. I didn't know that he had you." I said, half of the sentence slurred as I limited my jaw.

"What do you make of Merle?" Rick asked.

"I haven't know him long but he seems like a good man. Just not a great one."

* * *

_**Was it good? I hope so. The reason of this emergency A/N because I didn't want to make the top one any longer is this - Would you rather a 10-20k word chapter once a month, or a 2-5k one every 2 weeks? I'd do one every week but starting GCSE and all is annoying and hard. I mean, I support around 10-15k a month, because I'm selfish, but vote, give me your reasoning, tell me what you think I should do! When do you want chapters? (I'm gonna wait through the silence of the 0 people who read this now.)**_


	9. Chapter 9

**_A/N: I am on a roll. Kind of. These chapters are both probably terrible, I just have a calling to writing right now. I mean I also have no life because crying over Sunday/Monday's episode. Still._ I hope you like it because I wrote it all today and I'm very scared about the quality but I don't have enough self-restraint to not post this.**

* * *

****

That Evening

"Rick, what happened to Daryl and Merle?"

I asked, realizing that they weren't in the main room. The one with the round metal tables that were screwed to the floor and the balcony. Neither Daryl or Merle were watching from the balcony or from the quiet of the empty cells.

"They left. I stopped Merle outside because of what he did to Glenn. He took Daryl and left." Rick said, his eyes cold. "Their choice."

"You just let them go?"

A strange face.

With blonde-brown hair pulled back into a short ponytail and a white doctors coat that hadn't ever seen blood or dirt.

"I'm Anne. I was a doctor at Woodbury, but I left with T-Dog." she said, smiling, her brown eyes warm and light enough to match her hair.

"Oh. I didn't see you." I said, and then leaned back over my leather-bound journal, which was opened at the back page, and crossed out 317. It was the 318th day of the apocalypse.

Anne walked away, shaking her head and tutting something to herself, but I payed little notice to it as I flipped through the pages of the journal. Notes from class and notes on homework. It was on the last page I'd used that I stopped flipping through. It was the start of a paired English project. To write three very short non-descriptive tragic stories, if I remembered right. All I'd written was:

Once upon a time there was a girl who died.

I felt my heart lurch and my breath catch. And then I was sobbing and my hands were in my black hair and I could feel the damp in my eyes that didn't fall down my cheeks.

"Trinity?" Rick stood beside me, then, watching the tears well in my eyes.

"Oh my god." I choked on a sob, and then Rick pulled me up and away to one of the empty cells on the lower floor. Blood was smeared across the gray stone wall, but I leaned against it anyway, sobbing.

Rick gave me a confused, worried look.

"I just- Jodie-" I struggled to get the words out through the harsh, hiccuping sobs.

"Do you need to talk?" Rick asked as he sat on the very edge of the lower bunk frame. I slid to the floor and Rick didn't try and move me.

"In Atlanta, I left her and she died and it's my fault-" I choked, "You need to know about me, right?"

So I told him the story.

_**"**__**I'll walk with them. You go and get that minibus.**__**" **__Jodie said, stepping away from me. Her blonde hair was covered in smears of the same thick blood that covered our skin and our clothes. The guts did work on the dead. We'd gotten to an empty clothes store, so we'd made our way to the changing rooms, where it was somewhat more hidden.__The others were all waiting in the hallway; we'd gone into a changing booth to talk._

"We have to stick together, remember?" I said, determined not to leave Jodie.

"We're going to go through the stores we can as we leave Atlanta. It's dangerous, but not as dangerous as what you're doing.

_" __Jodie smiled that defeated smile of hers, "You're better in this world."_

"I need you-"

"We need a car. Go get 'em." Jodie laughed, then swung her arms around my shoulders. I wrapped my arms around her in return. We held the hug for half a moment. We didn't have much time.

"Be safe, Jodie." I said, and then stepped through the black curtain that separated

_us from the others. They were ready to go._

"You three be careful." Thomas

_said as he adjusted the white and gray camo rucksack on his shoulder. It was covered in the same bloody smears that coated all of us.__ "__You know where to meet, right?"_

"Yep." Kyle said, and made his way to the hallway that led out of the changing rooms.

_"__Got our map."_

"We'll see you when we get out of this city.

_" __Lewis said, following Kyle. "Don't stand around for too long, Trinity."_

**"****We went outside of the store."** I said, the sobs gone now, "Made our way to this abandoned minibus on the street."

"Atlanta was terrible when I got there." Rick said. "Two months in."

"Three. We stayed there for three." I said, "Then we decided to leave."

_**"**__**Get it started!"**__Kyle snapped as the dead around the street began to take notice. They'd all wandered in one big bunch down to the crossroads but now they were coming back at the sound we were making.__I figured that they weren't sure on what we were, so they didn't rush for us. Just stumbled this way. Why were they grouping up like that?_

"I'm trying." Lewis muttered through the open window as he twisted the key. It had been abandoned in the ignition to their luck. The dead were drawing closer.

"Lewis!" I warned, standing by the open side door, ready to jump in and pull it closed. The dead were speeding up at the sound of our voices. The only sound their moans of hunger and our voices.

_Then the engine rumbled to life, coughing and choking, but it was working._

"Yes!" I cried, then I dove into the side of the minibus, and turned around, stumbling about as I reached the pull the door closed. It took a moment, and I nearly fell out as Lewis began to move the minibus, but then I had it closed. Kyle had already gotten into the passenger seat. The dead rushed at the black minibus. I could see them through the black-tinted windows at the back. I leaned on the backs of the front seats, looking out the front window.

Lewis pulled a sharp turn, turning the minibus around. I was thrown to the side, hitting the floor and my right elbow, which stung horribly. I pulled myself up again, and smiled. It was a straight shot out of the city. Lewis and Kyle were already celebrating the fact, smiling and laughing.

_"Why didn't we bring everyone out this way?" I asked, "It seems like a stupid idea that we didn't, now."_

"Because they're doing a sweep on the way out, getting us celebration food!" Kyle laughed, "Besides, this was dangerous work."

**"****We got out. We were driving along the empty road out of Atlanta. Anyone who tried to get out down that road did; it was completely empty." **I said, holding my arms around myself to preserve my warmth. It had grown cold in the prison as night set in and my leather jacket was doing nothing against the cool stone. We spoke in low voices so that we didn't wake the rest of the prison.

"Why did you tell me?" Rick asked, fiddling with his short beard.

"So you know who I am. Don't you wanna know people?" I replied. "The story isn't over yet but I should go. It's late." I said, and then pulled myself to my feet. I hurried out of the cell, then to the metal stairs and then along to my cell. My cell, in our home. The prison that wasn't a prison.

**I lay on the lower bunk, staring at the bars of the upper one as though they held the secrets to life. **My life had been all about science and Jodie before this. Now it was about surviving and remembering Jodie. Everything revolved around Jodie for me, it seemed.  
_"__You're better in this world." _she said to me. I wondered what she'd make of me now. Would she be proud or would she be angry? Angry at me for giving up on people. Giving up on myself.

Tomorrow I would go after Merle and Daryl and I would bring them home.


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N - 2,853 words : D Are you proud of me? I'm like a chapter machine recently. I'm not sure on the quality of the chapters, but hey, there's actually chapters. I hope Merle, Daryl and Rick are all in character for you guys. And this is not on plot, at all, as you may have gathered. Also, I did steal Andrea's scar from the comics, although that is from the prisoners, not the Gov, y'know... ANYWAY, go and read it, because I'm gonna end up talking for way too long. Review, tell me what you think! Or don't, this isn't a Ricktatorship. Get it, get it? YES I KNOW IT WAS A BAD PUN!  
**_

* * *

"**Leaving again?" **Rick mocked me."I'll be back." I snapped, checking the bullets in the handgun that Rick had found for me. The clip had some bullets. so I slid the gun into the waistband of my jeans. I looked back at Rick. "Will you please let me out of my cell? Hey, do you think a prisoner said that before me?"

"Where are you goin'?" Rick asked as I shoved past him, making my way to the stairs.

"Daryl, Rick. Why did you let him go?"

"Merle-"

"You can't blame everythin' on everyone else, Rick!" I cried stopping halfway down the stairs and whirling around on him, "You and Daryl are partners. We all do bad things; how come Merle is different from you or me?"

"He isn't one of-" Rick began, but I interrupted him again.

"One of us? Neither was I, Rick. You accepted me after I left. Accept Merle."

It took Rick a moment to respond as we stood there, staring at each other on the stairs. "You better be right about him."

**The ground was uneven under my feet.** I could see faint wisps of white smoke still rising over the trees as I reached the edge of the large plains surrounding the prison. This was the start of the woods. Rick had told me which direction the pair had gone and sure enough, there had been faint gray smoke rising from an old campfire. The sun had risen around an hour ago. Hopefully the pair had stopped trekking close to the prison because of how late it had been.

Yet I found myself walking for two hours. I followed a haphazard trail of dead Walkers as I made my way. I wasn't sure I could catch the two hunters. However, it was then that I heard yells, two men yelling at each other. I saw two dark figures fall to the ground. I pulled out the gun from the back of my jeans, the one that belonged to a dead prison guard, and flicked the safety off.

"I din't know." Merle grunted, watching Daryl pull his shirt down. I saw a flash of lines from what may have been a tattoo before he got the cloth down.

The brothers turned to me. Daryl quickly grabbed his crossbow from the ground and Merle pulled a gun from his belt.

"Tell me that wasn't incest." I joked, lowing my gun. Daryl realized it was me, lowering his crossbow, but Merle was still suspicious.

"I ain't got all that against ya, sweetheart, but why'd you follow us?" he asked.

"This is stupid. Come back." I said, turning to Daryl, "You're more a part of that group than I am. Come back, Daryl."

"How'd you find us?" Merle asked, "Can ya track?"

"It was a nice trail of dead." I snapped, and then turned back to Daryl. "I don't know what just went on, but you both belong back there."

"I'm goin', Merle." Daryl announced.

"Baby brother-"

"I'm sick of your shit, Merle!"

"Language." I muttered, but neither brother payed attention to me.

"I'm your blood!" Merle protested, "They chained me to a rooftop and left me t' die!"

"We came back for you!" Daryl snapped, "Ya lost yer hand because yer just a simple-minded piece of shit."

"Are you comin' back?" I asked, stepping between the two. Something had caused them to fight moments ago, probably something like this. I wanted them to come to the prison, not argue and fight.

"C'mon, Merle." Daryl grunted, then turned and strode back the way I'd come from. I turned to Merle, staring at him.

"You gonna follow?" I asked. Merle didn't look happy, but after a few precious moments of consideration he started walking after Daryl. I kept in step by his side, despite the angry glares.

"Me an' my brother, we always stick together."

"Don't dwell on it." I said, reaching out to touch his shoulder, but Merle shrugged my hand away. What was it with Merle and being touched? Now that I thought about it, Daryl was the same.

"How did ya find us then?"

"I told you, the dead you left." I shrugged.

"That easy, eh? Ya can't track or nothin'?"

"No." I shook my head as we walked, flicking the safety off the gun I still held, and then sliding it into the back of my jeans. "Teach me."

"I ain't a good teacher, m'fraid." Merle said.

"Please? It's gotta be a good skill to have now. Please." I said, pushing out my bottom lip ever so slightly and looking up at Merle through my short eyelashes. It wasn't a cute face, but I felt like somehow it would help.

"Fine, if ya can be quiet." Merle grunted, and then we rushed to catch up to the silent, storming Daryl.

**A man sprinted out of the broken prison gates, rushing back to three trucks which held men. **Armed men. And the Governor. Walkers were stumbling out of the back of an abandoned white van, from which the man was running. I could see everyone running around the inner courtyard of the prison, getting guns and shooting out at Walkers and the Governor's men. And Rick, who was trapped outside of the prison. I expected him to shoot the Walker advancing on him, but he pulled the trigger pf his colt and nothing happened.

Daryl raised his crossbow and fired. The bolt hit the temple of the rotting Walker and so it crumbled to the ground, all twisting limbs and flaking flesh. Rick spun his head, looking to Daryl, and nodded. I pulled out the dead prison guard's handgun and then turned the safety off, looking to Merle. He pulled out his own gun.

It was then that the Governor drove away with his men, and left the food cupboard open. If we, the inhabitants of the prison, were the food, and the prison gates the door.

"Oh shit. How do we get back in?" I asked, aware of how violently my hand shook.

"We're gonna have to run." Rick said.

"I can't-"

"You did before." Rick said, "You got Daryl and Merle. It's your home too."

"Woodbury-"

"We all make mistakes." Rick said, and smiled, a grim smile that said 'This is good, but we might die now'.

"Let's get a move on, then." Merle said, and make his way to the broken prison gates. I could already see people at the inner gates, preparing to let us in. They were stabbing and kicking at the dead, defending what little home they had left.

"Go, go, go." I chanted, and then Rick ran, and then Merle, and Daryl. Then I did. The long way around, away from the Walkers leaving the white van. A semi circle, further away than the others. I shot at a Walker as I ran by it and it fell to the floor. Then I shot one that had fallen to the ground and was crawling towards me. A third, with only half a face of skin, the rest peeling off and hanging down. I shot that one too.

I was almost at the gate. I raised my gun to shoot a Walker, but my gun only clicked. I was out of bullets, so I flung the gun aside. Running so fast that I payed little attention to the ground I twisted around the Walker. Felt fingers scratch at the leather of my jacket but not catch, yet my balance nearly went out from under me as I took the next few steps, and then it did.

Another step and I reached the gate. My foot hit the edge of the winding road, and I went tumbling to the ground, hard. For half a moment, it didn't hurt. My right elbow hit the gravel, and then my right hand, skidding and sliding along as my right leg hit the ground. Everything became super speed in slow motion as I rolled onto my back, groaning. I must have hit the side of my head for it throbbed. I also mustn't have been completely through the gate. I yelled out a series of ungodly words.

An arm went under my knees, and then a hand clutched at my left shoulder, and pulled me up and then my right side was cradled against a white vest. The motion sickened to me, so I clutched onto the vest and yelled profanities into the white fabric. I felt a stinging rip through my left cheek. Some part of my mind told me that I'd ripped open Hershel's stitches.

When the arms moved to put me down I stumbled and almost fell again. I felt metal hit my arm and then pull away, suddenly.

Merle stood the closest to me, looking down at his metal stump with narrowed eyes. I wrapped my left hand around my right elbow, the pain itching, throbbing. I realized then that Merle had tried to stop me from falling a second time with his stump, forgetting that it was in fact a stump. I glanced fleetingly at the sharp bayonet-like attachment, and decided to ignore what might have happened. I figured that Merle had carried me too. I could see a smudge of blood on his vest from my elbow.

"Thanks." I said, meekly, and then twisted my arm around to look at my elbow, moving my hand away. It came away stained with red and black. My jacket had finally given in, the arm of it split open down to the wrist, bits flaking where they'd already been weakened by teeth and nails. Blood soaked out of a large gash filled with little bits of dirt and stone on my elbow. "Oh hell."

"Ya grazed yer head." Merle grunted. He turned and walked away, to Rick. I swore under my breath. I could see Hershel holding the door to the safe corridors of the prison open. I made my way to him, pressing my right elbow against my side and my left hand against my cheek.

**"****It burns!" **I yelled, yanking my elbow away from Hershel and his disinfectant.

"You don't want to get this infected. It's only small but we might not have the medicine to spare." Hershel said, "Let's start with that graze on your forehead. I don't see how this can be worse than the stitches in your cheek."

I gritted my teeth, leaning towards Hershel. He quickly dabbed and swiped at the small graze on my right temple. I knew that it wasn't necessary because it was less than an inch, that graze, but it was a confidence builder and I didn't object, despite the sting and burn.

The cut stung, but not as voraciously as my elbow had.

"I need a new jacket." I groaned, holding my elbow out to Hershel. The jacket lay where I'd dumped it on the floor, the sleeve ripped, loose threads coming from the seams and bites patterning the body of the jacket.

I jabbed the screwdriver into the sunken metal hole, where the screw for the metal bunk sat.

"Wrong screwdriver, sweetheart." Merle said, and then reached down and pulled a different screwdriver from the red tool bag, with it's handsaw and hammer. Merle gave the bag a venomous look as he tossed a screwdriver with a different head to my side.

"You psychic?" I asked, putting the screwdriver I'd been using, the flat head, on the ground next to me. I picked up the one Merle had tossed me and shoved it into the screw for the upper bunk.

"I looked at my own bunk." he said, "Ya need a hand in 'ere?"

"Depends if I drop it on myself." I said, catching the screw in my hand. I expected the bunk to fall in a horrible, metal wrenching way, but it stood still.

"They're prison beds, sweetheart. Lot more screws than that."

**It took three hours to finish dismantling the metal frame.** But we got it done. I took two mattresses from one of the many empty cells, so that I had four piled in a small double bed. I would have liked more, but it wasn't fair to everyone. So I put the three clean sheets I had on the bed. I was going to have to find the laundry room.

"All done." Merle grunted. "Hows yer cheek?"

"Hershel says it's definitely gonna scar after I ripped it open. I'm just glad it isn't all the way through. It's just a scratch." I murmured, dropping to sit in the corner of the mattress. I patted the mattress next to me, but Merle didn't move from where he leaned against the wall near the cell door.

"How's yer elbow then?"

"Just a playground graze." I shrugged.

"Get t' sleep." Merle said, stepping towards the door.

"Wait!" I cried, internally wincing at the pain that stabbed through my cheek, but there was no more blood. I had to watch how I spoke, I supposed, before I ripped open the stitches again.

"What?"

"Teach me to hunt tomorrow?" I asked, clasping my hands together, shaking them in a plea. "Please."

"No, sweetheart." Merle said.

"It's a good skill to have. You can teach me." I mumbled, "Please, please."

"Alrigh'." he said, and then turned to leave.

"Merle?"

"What now?" he grunted, turning back to me.

"Why do you hate everyone?" I asked.

"'cause I ain't a very good person, that's all, sweetheart. I just wanna be with ma brother." Merle said.

"Why did you help me, then?"

"Ya ain't looked at me like I'm redneck scum yet, sweetheart." Merle said, and then walked out of the cell, faster than I could shout to him or run after him. So I rested back into the mattresses, wrapping the sheets around myself to keep in the warmth. The warmth left the prison at night, seeping out of the stone and metal.

I struggled to sleep after that, wondering about Merle. It was true; everyone looked at him like scum. They were nicer to the prisoners. The prisoners voices echoed about at night, incoherent words that bounced about the cell block and kept people awake. Yet Merle was passionately hated, more than the prisoners.

I forced the thoughts from my mind as I stared at the pile of metal pieces in the opposite corner of the cell, and the red tool bag which I hadn't yet returned. Merle had given the tools looks of pure, raw hatred. I understood then that this group deserved a history book all to itself.

**"****This is war." **Rick stated as he stood in the center of the room. The three metal tables surrounded him, and at them sat Glenn and Maggie, with Hershel and Beth. And over on another were Lori and Carl. Lori clutched at her belly. I wondered when the baby would come. From the whispering I heard, she was late.

"We need to clear the rest of the prison so that we have a place to defend. There has got to be an armory in this place." Rick continued, "We need to find that armory and clear A-Block for the prisoners. They can't stay locked in our cells forever."

"Sir, we ain't-" Axel began from where he sat on the third metal table, with the other prisoners sat along him. His bushy mustache looked out of place not just with the intimidating men, but in the apocalypse too.

"You were shot in the shoulder. We had to use our resources for you. You're going." Rick said to the man, his words irritated as they spread about the room. The words were true; Axel had come back in bleeding, much to everyone's surprise. Apparently the prisoners had hidden with him near the entrance to A-Block, but he hadn't been able to stand it, so he'd come inside, to Hershel. "It's either in there or the road."

Axel was silent then, as were the other four prisoners.

"It's settled, then. Daryl, Glenn, Maggie and Trinity. I want you four as backup if these prisoners are more useless than they look." Rick said, "Get ready to go."

I glanced at Merle, who stood to my right on the upper balcony.

"Guess we ain't goin' huntin then. Besides, you ain't got a bow or anythin'." Merle said.

"Hey, I don't even have a gun." I said, "Do you have a spare?"

"Not got a knife or anythin'?" he asked.

"Governor took it." I said.

"Ya came out into the woods with only a few bullets?" he scoffed, "I'll get yer a knife, but ya gotta get yer own gun."

**"****Take care of that." **Rick said, holding the black gun out to me.

"I will." I said as I took the gun from him, and then slid the gun into the back of my jeans.

"Are Dale's tools still in your cell?" Rick asked.

"Yeah, they are." I said, "Who's Dale?"

"We lost him at the farm. A good man, true at heart." Rick said, and left it at that, so I didn't press him anymore. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah."


	11. Chapter 11

**The chain fell to the ground.** Daryl kicked the doors and they flew open, revealing a dusty white room. Curtains hung on either side of the room, some fully closed and some half open as they wrapped around the hospital beds in rectangular shapes.

The nine of us made our way inside. Five prisoners and four of – us. What would you call us? Civilians? Killers? But not all of us were killers. I wasn't. Were we survivors? That was the closest term I could think of from Before. If we had time, maybe we could all make our own names and phrases, so when humanity got through this, we'd have our words as a legacy that wasn't just mass graves.

"Get whatever you can. We can close all the connecting gates in the corridors so that it's safe between here and the cell block." Rick said, and then turned to the prisoners, "Except you. Stand over there."

**I looked at the large hulk of metal, and the screwed on cap that opened to the gas tank.**

"This is a gas generator. We could power the place." I said, moving my torch away from it. I briefly flicked it toward the prisoners, but they stayed still, stood in the corner as they'd been instructed. I found the control board, and hit ON, but nothing happened. It was out of gas.

There were no windows in the generator room, so if not for the bright LED torches we would have been stumbling around the pipes and machines in the dark. As it was, a deep darkness surrounded us. Unless the torches shone directly at something they did nothing to break the solidity of the shadows.

"We could use the hospital." Maggie said from where she and Glenn watched over the prisoners.

"This is our place." Tomas protested, but Rick strode across the room, holding his gun up. In the dim light of Maggie's torch his face was shadowed and eerie, filled with hate for the criminals.

"No. This is ours. We took it." Rick snarled, and the prisoners were quiet after that, muttering amongst themselves.

**"It's dark." I whispered. **I held the dark gray knife Merle had given me in my right hand, the thin prison flashlight in my left. The second gun Rick had given me was in the back waistband of my jeans. At my side was the prisoner with the bushy mustache and blond hair. Axel, his name was. Behind us were Glenn and the large one whose name I had forgotten. Big Tiny, or something.

There was no answer to my obvious statement as we walked through the dark halls. The only sounds, at first, were our footsteps and ragged breaths. And then, a recurring theme in this world, groans and scuffling feet.

Daryl and Rick were already halfway around the next corner.

"They're comin'." Rick nodded, and then he and Daryl moved back and to the side, nodding Oscar, Tomas and Andrew forward. "Aim for the head."

There were only four Walkers. Tomas and Andrew moved forwards, hitting and stabbing at the Walkers with their respective weapons in all the wrong places. Chest and stomach, but not the head. And then Oscar moved forward and slammed his axe into the head of the third Walker. The skull cracked and split with a sickening thud. Tomas and Andrew still smacked at their Walkers. Oscar pulled his axe out of the skull of the dead one. Prepared to kill the fourth, which was advancing on him. Oscar swung the axe. It sunk into the dead one's shoulder and lodged in a bone. It was stuck.

I moved to shove past them and kill the Walker. Glenn grabbed at my arm and held me back. Big Tiny backed down the corridor in fear. Axel might have moved, but saw Glenn stop me.

Andrew smashed his baseball bat into the head of his Walker. Oscar's grasped hold of his prison uniform. It's jaw dangerously close to Oscar's throat. Tomas pulled out his gun. Shot the remaining two. They hit the ground, lifeless.

"The hell did ya get that gun?" Rick yelled, his voice echoing around the dark corridors. My eyes strained to see him.

Silence. And then moans. But we didn't run. The crowd of bumbling dead rushed down the corridor. We didn't run. Our blades moved into the skulls. Slicing and stabbing and into bone and brain. We spread out and let them come, backing up inch by inch as they came.

Rick sank his knife into the skull of a Walker. Another landed on him. With force. Not reaching and biting. Like a fall. Walkers didn't do that. It had to have been pushed, I decided, as it snapped at Rick's neck.

I moved away from Axel and sank Merle's knife into the back of it's skull. I grasped the bloody prison uniform and pulled the body off Rick. He nodded in thanks, and then we went back to to the slaughter.

And when it was done, Rick was angry. It showed in his blue eyes and set jaw. But he didn't speak. He turned to the smirking Tomas and swung his machete at his skull. But Tomas moved, and then shot.

"Rick!" I cried, placing my spare hand over the borrowed gun in the waistband of my jeans. Daryl spun on Andrew with his crossbow.

"Man, I didn't-" Andrew began, his white eyes standing out, their widened fear obvious. Andrew didn't finish his sentence. He ran off through the corridors. Rick fell against the wall.

"Walkers should deal with them." he grunted. I could see blood flowering across his shirt. His hands clutched at the source. "Get back to cell block..."

Daryl had his crossbow pointed at Oscar. Maggie had her gun on Axel.

"Where's Big Tiny?" I asked, looking around the dark halls. I couldn't see him.

"He's on his own." Daryl grunted, "C'mon. You convicts goin' first."

**I ran my hands across my jeans to wipe the blood away. **It didn't come off my hands, but I didn't keep trying. My hands could stay red and bloody until Rick was stitched up.

"Rick-"

"It was his shoulder, Lori." I said, "he'll be okay. Hershel and Annie are with him."

"What about the prisoners?" she asked. Lori clutched at her womb, her eyes creased with concern. Rick and Lori had been arguing, but they still loved each other. Or at least, Lori still loved Rick. I thought Rick cared.

"They ran off. The Walkers probably got them. The other two are locked in a cell downstairs." I said, "Lori, you still have your family. Rick's worked hard for that, you both have. He won't just leave you now."

"I'm worried about the baby." Lori admitted, "It's just... Rick hates me. I've tried so hard."

"If he hated you then he wouldn't have protected you, Lori." I said,"I wouldn't advise worrying, because it's bad for your health. You'll be okay."

"If I-"

"Lori, I won't let you die when you're giving birth to this baby. We found a hospital, we have Annie and Hershel, and we can power that generator." I interrupted.

"It could come at any time. There's no time to start the generator now." Lori said, "I need to get some clothes washed."

**"****We have any extra fuel?" **I asked, "It's important, Daryl."

"What for?"

"Things." I waved my arms around, but Daryl kept his eyes on the woods and the infested field.

"No. I ain't-" Daryl paused, and looked down at the prison courtyard. Then he was running down the stairs, his crossbow bouncing off his back. I looked down, and saw for myself what was happening. There stood Tomas, with his sweat-stained white vest and Andrew with his bloody jumpsuit. Holding automatic guns.

* * *

_**Did you think I forgot? I felt like going down here today. Support the bottom and all. Wait- listen I don't mean booty. I swear. But y'know, stuff. I had something to say. I forgot. I hope you liked the story. Review and favourite because I am the best. Ever. Obviously. Did you know that there are 11.3k TV show stories, 991 Game stories and 137 comic stories for The Walking Dead? I feel like I have more competition here. Just a little. IDK, I'm just trying to feel less butthurt about my bad story. **_


End file.
